Into the Rain
by sherina
Summary: After an upsetting case, Sara seeks out solitude, but Greg won't let her wallow all alone.


Into the Rain

Disclaimer: The characters and the premise don't belong to me, only this particular story is mine. All the inspiration belongs to the genius brains behind the show.

Sara sighed in frustration as she stood in the rain, waiting for the light to change. It was so pathetically fitting that one of the few rainfalls that Nevada sees would hit on one of the worst nights she had experienced in months. It was like the weather was trying to match her mood somehow. As hard as she tried, she couldn't get the case off her mind.

"Sara, go home," Grissom had told her as she'd paced the break room. "There's nothing else that we can do now."

"He did it Grissom," she'd snapped. "He raped her, stabbed her, and left her to die in the middle of nowhere."

"Sara…"

"Dammit, don't 'Sara' me; he did it!" Sara had shouted angrily. Out in the hallway, heads had craned towards the open door but she hadn't cared who was listening. "I know it, you know it, HE sure as hell knows it, and if Amy wasn't dead she'd confirm it too."

Grissom had said nothing. He had slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and had studied her face as Sara had grown more agitated. She had sighed and sagged against the wall. "Come on Grissom, you know I'm right. We have evidence that Brent Myers assaulted her and then killed her."

Grissom had shaken his head. "And we have evidence that proves he may not have done it too." He'd raised his hand to silence her before she could protest. "Sara, I know. Nobody wants to see this guy go, but evidence is evidence and what you believe in your gut isn't enough. There's too much room for doubt. The D.A. won't take the case; he knows it would end up with a hung jury."

Sara had snorted in disgust as she had shrugged her jacket on. Without another word, she had headed for the door.

"Isn't your car still in the shop?" Grissom had asked. When she'd nodded, he had offered her a ride home.

"No thanks. I need the air. I'll get a cab when I'm ready to head home and think about how useless my job can be." She had walked out before Grissom could respond.

Sara flicked her wet hair out of her eyes as she was finally able to step out into the street, crossing the intersection and heading towards a diner. Just a few months ago she would have jumped at the chance to be alone with Grissom; she would have been sitting in his car before he could have finished the question. She probably would have spent the whole drive home thinking about how she could invite him in without sounding desperate. Sara sighed again; that ship had sailed and she wasn't about to jump back on board now.

She pushed the diner's door open and headed for a booth near the back. She ordered a coffee and a plate of fries from the waitress, then leaned her head against the cold window. She watched the rain bounce off the glass and closed her eyes, begging her brain to just stop thinking for five minutes.

"Hey," a voice said quietly.

Sara's eyes snapped open and she knocked over the salt shaker as she started.

"Greg. God. What are you doing here?" Sara brushed the salt off the table and righted the shaker.

"Aren't you going to toss that over your shoulder for good luck?" Greg asked as he sat down opposite her.

"I'm not superstitious," she replied tersely. "Although maybe I should be since apparently things like evidence don't mean anything."

The waitress placed Sara's order on the table. Greg glanced down and raised his eyebrows. "Coffee and fries?" he questioned.

Sara shrugged. "Yeah. Caffeine and grease, two of the four main food groups. All I need now is a chocolate bar and a bottle of beer and my night can be perfect."

"I'm convinced," Greg said. He turned to the waitress. "I'll have the same, please."

As the waitress walked away, Sara looked at Greg. "You know, I'm really not feeling all that social right now, so let me ask you again: What are you doing here?"

Greg tried to look nonchalant. "Didn't you know this is my favorite place to eat?" Sara cocked one eyebrow at him, torn between amusement and annoyance. "Okay, okay. I followed you."

Sara choked on her coffee. "You what? You followed me?"

The waitress returned with Greg's order and set it in front of him as he smiled. "I don't mean for that to sound like I'm a stalker or anything. I just knew you were upset and I wanted to talk to you."

Sara put her cup down and stared at him, incredulous. "You think I'm upset? Why would I be upset? Because I bust my ass every day just to see people like him get up and walk away from a murder charge? Why would that upset me?"

"Sara," Greg said softly, "don't do this."

"Do what?" Sara snapped.

"Shut me out. Don't shut me out like you do to everyone else when something is on your mind."

Sara opened her mouth to respond and then abruptly shut it. She looked down to see Greg's hand covering hers. She looked up at him in confusion, searching his face for some sort of understanding.

"This food sucks," Greg said, pulling a few bills out of his pocket and tossing them on the table. "Come on. Walk with me."

Too startled to reply, Sara stood up. Greg's hand still held hers tightly as he led her towards the door.

As they headed out into the rain, he put her coat over her shoulders. Walking away from the diner, he let his arm linger there, pulling her closer.

Sara peered up at him, blinking rain from her eyes. Never one to be unable to find her words, she suddenly found herself in unfamiliar territory. After opening and closing her mouth a few more times, she finally settled on silence, acutely aware of the weight of his arm on her shoulder. She was used to Greg flirting with her after all these years; she wasn't used to this step forward though.

After walking in silence for a few minutes, Greg pulled his arm away and took her hand again. "Talk to me Sara," he said. "Tell me what happened."

And she did. She started at the beginning, explaining the details of the case. She told him the way it felt to find Amy Ranger's naked body tied up and dumped in the desert. She told him how it had sickened her to see that the suspect hadn't even attempted to cover the body, how he wanted to flaunt his kill. She described the twisting in the pit of her stomach as Doc Robbins had confirmed that yes, the rape kit results had come back positive.

Stiffening with her anger, Sara continued, telling Greg about every bit of evidence that she had found against Brent Myers and practically spat out the details of the few pieces of evidence in his favor. She bemoaned the fact that her head wanted to understand that sometimes a case just turned out this way but that her heart knew she had watched a guilty man walk away from what he had done and that there was nothing she could do to stop it. She swore about the defense attorney who didn't seem to have the slightest interest in even attempting to try him.

Finally, she questioned the validity of her work at all if her absolute best couldn't even prove Myers guilty beyond any shadow of a doubt. "Maybe my best doesn't mean much after all," she confessed.

Greg squeezed her fingers gently and stopped walking. He turned her to face him and looked down at her, a serious expression in his eyes as he spoke to her.

"Do you remember that big case a few years ago with that bus that crashed?" he asked.

"Sabotaged by a disgruntled, pot-using ex-employee of the bus company," she recalled, thinking back. "Yeah, I remember, but what does that have to do with…"

Greg laid a finger against her lips, stopping her from continuing. "I was feeling really low that day and you came in and you told me I'm really good at what I do. Sara?" He squeezed her fingers again. "Sara, you're really good at what you do. Amazingly good. One bad case doesn't change that."

Sara looked down at her feet. Greg put his hand under her chin and pulled her gaze back up. "If this guy walks, it's a result of the system, a crappy fact of life. It's not your fault."

Sara didn't even realize the tears had fallen until she felt him brush them away with his thumb; she didn't realize her arms were around his waist until she felt his body pressed against hers.

Greg tilted her head up and leaned down. She closed her eyes as he leaned in and kissed her softly at first, then with more determination as he felt her respond. For the first time all night, Sara finally stopped thinking and just let herself be swept away by something other than fingerprints and fibers.

They broke away only when a passing car honked in appreciation of their embrace. Both bashful, they glanced at each other and smiled shyly. Looking over his shoulder, Sara realized their long walk had led them back to the crime lab's parking lot.

Pointing, Sara asked, "Is that your car?" When Greg nodded, she said, "My mechanic is trying to revive mine. Can you take me home?"

Taking her hand once more, he said, "Of course I can." Leading her to the passenger side, he held her door for her, then closed it behind her.

Sara watched his profile as he walked around the front of the car to the driver's side. How was it that she had taken his attention for granted all these years? Why had it been easier to tease him than it would have been to open herself up to the possibilities? Had she really been that wrapped up in Grissom that she never saw the potential in her friendship with Greg?

Greg slid into his seat and patted her knee. "No offense Sara, but I think I'm going to have to go out to find some real food after I drop you off. Those fries were terrible."

As he reached to put his key in the ignition, Sara grabbed his hand. "No," she said quietly, almost shyly. "Don't drop me off. Come home with me." Surprised, Greg turned to look at her, unspoken questions in his eyes. "Come home with me," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Greg swallowed carefully and started the car without a word. Turning back to Sara, he pushed a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, then pulled her to him, kissing her again.

He pulled out of the lot and turned in the direction of Sara's house. Resting his hand on her knee, he smiled as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Yes ma'am."


End file.
